


Can't Get Next to You

by Jennifer-Oksana (JenniferOksana)



Category: Battlestar Galactica (2003)
Genre: Bars and Pubs, Cute, Dancing, Episode: s03e15 A Day In The Life, F/M, Female Friendship, Flirting, Het, Scheming, Schmoop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-17
Updated: 2016-03-17
Packaged: 2018-05-27 05:36:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6271834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JenniferOksana/pseuds/Jennifer-Oksana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Roslin has a new hobby and possibly friends and other attempts at a personal life; Adama men suck, and in general, people get drunk, dance, hook-up, and act like morons in a cute way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Can't Get Next to You

Bill hadn't lied; the gym smelled pretty rank, but Laura didn't care what it smelled like. If she didn't do something physical IMMEDIATELY, she was going to explode.

Now, what she really, really wanted to do was to shove that clueless man up against a wall and show him exactly what three years of enforced celibacy did to a woman, but Bill, as usual, was tragic and polite and noncommittal despite the look in his eyes that said everything and nothing all at once.

Gods, she hadn't been to a gym in a long, long time. During the Adar administration, her forms of exercise had been walking, running to meetings, sex, and the occasional novelty class that one of the junior staffers would wheedle for, like dance or kickboxing or something that never lasted longer than four months at Education.

On the other hand, there were pretty, pretty boys doing things with big barbells and running on treadmills here. So at least the view was nice from the bikes.

" _You_ are new," someone said before Laura could get herself to a bike and tune out. "Hi."

"Hi," Laura said. "I'm Laura."

"Yeah, no? _Really_?" the someone, who was an adorable girl about half Laura's age, said with a smile. "Margaret Edmonson. You can call me Racetrack or Margie. What are you looking to do?"

"Something that burns off energy," Laura said. "I have a music player that my aide lent me -- I won't be any trouble on the bike, I'd imagine."

"Music?" Margie asked, perking up. "New music? From Colonial One? Gimme."

Laura handed the old music player to the girl, baffled, and she went running to a group of young women. Laura recognized Dualla, the one who'd married Lee Adama, but the rest were strangers.

"Hook it the frak up, Dee," one of the women hollered. "Thank you!"

Laura waved back, confused, and Margie ran back to her, big smile on her face.

"We never get new music," she said enthusiastically. "I hope your aide doesn't have bad taste."

"So do I," Laura admitted as the young woman led her to a bike. "I'm sorry, I'm new at this."

"It's okay. Just pedal," Margie said. "And if you get bored, let one of us know. It's big bragging rights, working out with the president."

"Oh, please," Laura said, rolling her eyes. "I'm out of shape, just past fifty, and completely uncool."

Margie shrugged and gave Laura a once-over. "You have a nice ass, at least," she said. "So it could be worse."

Laura half-laughed and got on the bike Margie had set up for her.

"Thank you," she said, feeling awkward and grateful. How long had it been since she'd interacted socially with anyone not in official circumstances? Apparently long enough to make Laura bad at it, she thought.

"Don't mention it," Margie said as she trotted back to her friends and music started to play over the gym's weary speakers.

Apparently Tory -- or whoever Tory had borrowed the player from -- had very, very good taste in music. The bevy of girls squeaked and laughed, and kept up their pace on the treadmill, but kept exchanging significant looks.

Though, Laura thought as she started to pedal harder, that could be because the song was about obvious sexual frustration with a teasing lover.

She tried to not pay attention to them because it seemed rude, especially when one of them -- not Margie or Dualla, a girl with a mass of short dark hair -- jumped off her treadmill and started doing something that looked like dance exercises mixed with self-defense.

Which quickly became actual dancing when the next song started playing, with a blast of trumpets and a catchy little riff. The girls started to holler at the dancer, and Laura pretended not to be listening.

"Should have known some frakkin' Colonial One wench was holding out," Margie said. "Hey, ma'am?"

Laura looked up, pretending she hadn't been watching at all. "Yes?"

"Who gave you this?"

"Tory Foster," said Laura. "Why?"

"Frakking Tory," Dualla said snippily. "Come on, restart this one, Coralia."

Coralia -- the dancer -- snickered, and Laura, now definitely more interested in what the group of girls was doing than pounding out another ten or twenty minutes on the bike, got up and walked over.

"Margaret...Margie...said I could come over if I was bored," Laura said. "Can I admit I'm terribly bored and a little curious about what you're up to?"

Dee looked at Margaret, who looked at Coralia who looked at another short-haired girl who looked at another pilot-type. "I don't have a problem with that," Dee said. "Racetrack, you have a problem with it?"

"Not even a little one," Margie said. "Cor?"

"Fine by me. Seelix?"

Seelix and the last girl -- whose name Laura later discovered as Eleni -- nodded, and Margie perked up. "Do you know how to dance?" she asked.

"A little bit," Laura said dubiously.

"Good, because we're bored, too," Dee said.

Over the next half an hour, Dee and Margie explained in detail a byzantine set of rivalries that involved the bar on Galactica -- Laura hadn't had any idea there was a bar on Galactica -- several other other moonshine joints around the fleet, the possession of good music, and the abilities of various crews to dance, fight, and have good parties.

"So Tory runs the little gang on Colonial One?" Laura asked, watching as Eleni did a complicated set of steps mixed in with a few punches and blocks.

"Tory thinks she runs the universe," Dee said. "Billy? So much better at making friends. And running the universe."

"Billy was...well," Laura said, unable to express it. "Can I try that?"

Margie and Seelix grinned. "Of course, ma'am," Seelix said.

"Laura," Laura said decisively and immediately. "Madame President and ma'am get boring, too."

"Okay, then," Seelix said. "Eleni, rewind, Mom wants to try her chops."

Laura would have been offended, but she got the point. This was something they took seriously, and she was an interloper trying to be...part of things she had no part in.

And that made Laura feel empty inside. She had nothing like this to take semi-seriously, something that she did when she wasn't being the president. She didn't even know what Tory, her shadow, did in her bits of spare time.

"Okay then," Laura said. "I have no idea what I'm doing. I just...want to."

Coralia snorted. "Gods, don't be naive," she said, sounding as if she was talking to a peer and not the president. "You know the first part of any good dancer -- walking into a room and owning it. You're the frakking president and you're a good-looking woman. Walk toward me like a good-looking woman who's going to GET her man."

Laura smiled ruefully. Direct hit in terms of why Laura was here, but she COULD do that. And she could at least hear the beat, moving forward with her hips, and hadn't the girls done a little arm thrust and twist with that behind drop?

And yes, she could hear the horn and she could think of walking down the admiral until he either had to touch her or flee the room.

And just like that, she realized Coralia had her hands on her hips. "Drop 'em as low as you can," the girl said. "Then twist around, butt out, shimmy. Cutely, not like you're trying to freak on me. Turn back around, flourish, hands on my shoulders."

Laura nodded, feeling about twelve and low woman on the totem pole. And did the move without the least bit of shame, adding a bit of a head-neck-shoulder motion.

"You used to be naughty in a former life," Coralia said, giving her a look that betokened respect. "Dee, did you SEE that?"

"I did indeed," Dee said, strutting up to Laura with a speculative expression on her pretty face. "How bored are you, Laura?"

"Bored enough to hear whatever's just popped in your head, Dee," Laura said with a smile that matched the one that had just crossed all of the girls's faces.

It was more interesting than the bikes, gods knew.

* * *

"Why is that woman always here?" Tigh asked, watching Roslin as she disappeared down a corridor with a pack of junior officers and high-ranking enlisted types about a month after Bill's anniversary. "And where did she pick up THAT group?"

"I told her she can be here," Bill said. "She's got a bit of the OBE and Colonial One's not a big ship. And if she's making friends with the crew, it's more than...our wives would have."

Tigh snorted. "And you don't mind watching her trot away with her little friends, do ya?" he asked with a wry eyeroll.

"Not even a little," Bill said with a shrug. "Do you know where they go?"

"Workouts. Hen parties. Hell if I know or care," Tigh said. "You might ask around. Dee's one of 'em, last I heard."

"Thanks, Saul," Bill said dryly as he and his first officer broke off to do surprise inspections and Bill went back toward the CIC. Dualla was at the comm, and Bill, after a moment of debating it, walked over to her.

"Sir," she said with her usual uneasy friendliness. Ever since the marriage, neither Bill nor Dee had known how to speak to each other, given Lee's distance from his father. They were usually polite but careful and it came off a bit strained most of the time. "Is there something I can do for you?"

"Tigh was telling me you've been spending time with the president," Bill said. "He expressed surprise about the amount of time she's aboard Galactica."

"Lieutenant Edmonson and I thought it would be a good thing to keep her company," Dee said blandly. "Do you disapprove, sir?"

"Not at all," Bill said, wishing he hadn't said anything. "I'm glad, come to that. I was a bit curious about her reasons for constant visits."

"Just workouts," Dee said. "Does some work in the observation galley, I guess."

"Oh. Well. Then," and Bill felt himself clearing his throat. "Don't mention this to her, all right? I'm not trying to ruin her free time."

"Of course, sir," Dee said. "How are you, anyway? I bet Lee didn't tell you how much he loves the law books. It's all he does now in his off-time."

Bill smiled. "That's good to hear," he said, meaning it. "If I thought he'd say yes, I'd invite you two for dinner sometime."

"I understand," Dee said. "You should try it, sometime. He might say yes."

"Might say no, too," Bill said.

"Then you just ask until he does say yes, sir," Dee said with a steely nod. "If you'll excuse me, sir, I'm off shift in five minutes."

"Oh," Bill said. "Off to work out with the president?"

Dee looked up with him, and there was definitely mischief in her eyes. Bill suddenly was more than curious; what in the name of the seven hells _was_ Laura doing with those girls? And what was she saying? Surely she wouldn't be indiscreet...

"You want me to spy on her?" Dee asked.

"No! Not really," Bill said.

"I'll tell you if she mentions you, sir," Dee said, walking away with a little spring in her step. Almost as if she were dancing, he thought.

Bill groaned and got to work. As much as he was able to work, with his brain full of the woman who was conspiring against him with his junior officers in the gym as he did so.

* * *

Dee practically skipped into the gym and the corner that Laura's...friends? they were getting perilously close to counting as such...were teasing each other and making her feel old and young at the same time.

Margie -- and only Laura called her Margie, everyone else went for Marge or 'Track -- had a worthless man who she obsessed over. Eleni didn't talk about boys much and quietly dared Laura to ask her why. All of them cheerfully speculated obscene things about the many, many boyfriends they were certain Laura traded around.

"Your boyfriend wants me to spy on you," Dee informed Laura with a lilting sing-song in her voice. "He wants to know what you're do-ing."

"I'm working out," Laura said primly. "And then I go to bed, fulfilled in my many good deeds but unsatisfied personally. You can tell the admiral exactly that, too."

Seelix shrieked with laughter. "You are not a nice lady," she said. "I thought you were supposed to be a nice lady."

"No, I'm a dirty-minded unfulfilled middle-aged woman who prances around with girls half my age to gossip and keep an eye on the man I know loves me but won't ask me to dinner," Laura said glibly and honestly. "If I weren't the best president ever and really good-looking, I'd be a laughingstock."

Dee looked a little bit sympathetic, Eleni snorted, and Seelix actually got on a treadmill.

"I need to work up a lather, and you guys are worse than Starbuck and Gaeta combined," she said. "If we get past the self-pitying gossip, let me know."

Margie joined her, but Dee dragged Laura away from treadmills and said, "Tango."

"Tango?"

"I lead, you follow," Dee said. "I'm your daddy today, Mom."

There were certain rules. Only Laura called Lt. Edmonson Margie, and only Dee called Laura Mom, especially after Eleni taught Laura how to throw a punch.

Laura was good at the punching. Not good at kicking at all, so-so at blocking, but she'd given one of the engineers a black eye he'd worn for two weeks afterward when he pushed her a bit too hard.

"And you without the hat," Laura said jokingly. The girls had a fedora they passed around for the leader in partner dancing; Eleni had declared it was unfair because "the president looks like sex in a fedora. I want to be sex in a fedora."

Whereupon the fedora showed up irregularly and the girls gave Eleni endless grief for it.

"Daddy Dee wants no hat. Daddy Dee needs no hat," Dee said, seizing one of Laura's hands. "Also, friendly warning: Adama. Men. Suck."

"I did escape from prison with one," Laura pointed out calmly. "And I'm in a strange, codependent relationship with the other."

"No, you're not," Dee said with a curt nod. "That's the problem. I almost lost my husband because I thought, y'know, if he was still in love with Starbuck, he'd mention that before marrying me. You think just because he loves you, wants you, and knows you want him back, he'll broach the subject?"

"That is the expectation," Laura said as Dee led her backward in a walk and did a gancho before Dee turned her around.

"You don't understand. He's an _Adama_. I had to yell at him to chase after you on Kobol," Dee said. "I love the old man, but he's not going to do anything that he might think is inappropriate. Or will get his ass shot down."

"Oh," said Laura, pushing back and sweeping her foot back. "So what do you suggest I do to win my stubborn, useless Adama who knows I won't shoot him down? Why do we chase them, anyway? They're emotional, stubborn, and do the opposite of what they want out of a misplaced sense of honor."

"They kiss pretty good, though," Dee said, swirling Laura around. "Well, Lee does, but they're...well, you know."

"Same man," Laura agreed. "Good indicator of each other's habits and talents. And flaws."

"I wonder what the old man would say if he saw you right now," Dee said, play-petting Laura's cheek.

"Oh, I think it would be, 'why are you calling Lt. Dualla Daddy?'" Laura said cheerfully, striking a good closing pose. "Though you are a very good daddy, young lady."

"Thanks, baby," Dee said, touching the brim of her non-existent hat. "You're a good partner."

Laura preened playfully, and Margie hooted, jumping off the treadmill. "I swear, you two oughta run off together. I bet the Adama boys would notice THAT."

Dee paused.

"You have a look on your face," said Laura. "I think you're scheming."

"Racetrack has a good point," Dee said. "You know the next one of the dances is on Galactica, right? I infiltrated Lee's stupid-ass bar and got it set up. I think you should endeavor to be there, Madame President."

"You do?" Laura asked, fluttering her eyelashes. "I think I can do that. When?"

"Another week. Frak knows, Tory will know before anyone," Dee said bitterly. "Ask her. And show up. I'll get them there."

"For what, exactly?" Laura asked, linking arms with her potential daughter-in-law.

It was good to have friends. It was even better to have family who Laura could relate to, as they strolled back toward the free weights and Dee explained her plan.

"Evil," Laura said, listening with sheer delight. "Devious, and prone to blow up in our face."

Dee paused, slightly anxious. "But you'll do it?"

"Of course," Laura said. "It'll be fun."

Dee laughed and hugged her. "I didn't think you'd be fun," she said. "Lee never said you were fun."

"Lee doesn't know just how _fun_ \--" and Laura punctuated the word with a little dance move -- "I can be."

"He will next week," Dee said, climbing on a bike. "Thirty minutes?"

"Twenty. I have a Quorum meeting," Laura admitted, closing her eyes.

* * *

"What the hell is going on around here, anyway?" Bill Adama asked his officer, gazing around the makeshift bar on his ship -- the bar he didn't like existing in the first place -- and the crowd of civilians infesting it with unease.

"There's a dance craze going around the fleet. There are little groups who burn off energy this way instead of beating people up," Gaeta said with a wry smile. "Your daughter-in-law requested you show up tonight."

"Dee asked me here?" Bill asked.

"That she did," Gaeta said with another smile.

Something was going on. Adama knew his crew, and they were up to something.

And when he spotted the president, looking even better than usual, sitting at a little table surrounded by glaring staffers, he knew they were definitely up to something.

But before Bill could go over and talk to Laura Roslin, who looked happy to be there, he was faced with his son, who looked surprised to see him.

"Hi, Dad," Lee said. "What are you doing here?"

"Dee invited me," Bill said.

"Yeah," Lee said. "Is that the president over there?"

"It is," Bill said. Gods, what had she done to her hair? It was more styled, and she was wearing lipstick of some kind, and she just looked almost as good as she had in the red dress. "She looks cheerful. Speaking of the president, do you know anything about the group she's made friends with here?"

"Nothing except that Dee and Racetrack are part of it," Lee said. "Dee says that she and Roslin get along really well, but...have you seen Dee, by the way?"

"No," Bill said. "Would you like to sit down?"

"I guess," Lee said. "I think our women are up to something."

Bill looked at his son. " _Our_ women?"

"What? Dad, it's obvious," Lee said with a surprised, embarrassed cough. "You're crazy about Roslin. Everyone knows. Everyone's rooting for you. I'm sure she'll say yes sooner or later."

"She already did," Bill muttered, sitting down. "But it's not appropriate."

"She already DID?" Lee asked. "Are you out of your mind? A beautiful woman tells you that she'll, um, date you and you said no? Dad. No wonder she comes to Galactica and works out for hours. It's the way she keeps herself from HURTING you."

"You don't know how it looks," Bill replied, embarrassed.

"Like you're a moron, that's how it looks. What if she gets tired of waiting and Zarek says yes? What are you going to do then?" Lee asked, apparently quite appalled at his father.

"She wouldn't ask Zarek," Bill said, the thought alarming him.

"But he might," Lee said. "Gods, this place is no fun when it's packed. And I don't get the appeal of the fancy dancing. A bar is where you throw darts, drink some booze, talk some crap about your life. It's not a frakking dance stage."

"I don't know, it seems lively enough," Bill said, looking around. "The music's good. And some of the outfits..."

"I just think if these people want to hit each other, they should hit each other instead of dancing around it, literally," Lee said, looking at Seelix twisting and gyrating against some couple from Colonial One to a beat-heavy song.

"Reminds me of when I was a kid," Bill said fondly. "I don't see the harm in..."

And then there was the skinny kid in the fedora. And the suspendered pants and Galactica tanks and the skinny tie, walking right to the VIP table where the president was sitting like he damn well owned the frakking place.

"Who the frak is that?" Lee asked. "Is he going to go hit on the frakking president?"

"Yes," Bill said briefly, staring at the young man with a steely glare.

Lee's attention, on the other hand, was split between the dancers and the president. He was probably looking for Dee, which seemed like a good idea to Bill, as Dee would probably know what was going on.

But the skinny kid had just kissed the president's hand, and Laura looked rather pleased. And then he leaned over and whispered something in her ear that made her giggle.

Bill Adama was not having a good evening. Not in the least.

* * *

"They look so confused," Laura said to Dee, who was actually a cute, if very skinny, boy. "Do you think they've guessed it's you?"

"No idea, but Irene is ready to go when you are," Dee said. "She thinks this is all very romantic and devious."

"Good for Irene," Laura said, thinking more and more this was ridiculous, but refusing to actually back down now. "I think Lee is looking for you."

"Me or Starbuck," Dee said with a light sigh, kissing her hand again. "Okay, that's the cue. I'll lead you out on the floor, we'll do some swaying, and then Irene will kick up the number. Gaeta's running interference to keep any of the dirty dancers away from us."

"That's nice of him," Laura said, taking Dee's hand. "This is absurd."

"Intelligent robots blew up our civilization and we're looking for a magic planet named Earth that you found with a literal arrow," Dee said. "All things can be absurd if you look at them right. Besides, the old man's doing the thing he does with his knuckles when he's annoyed. You have his attention."

"You'd be a good spy," Laura said, letting herself be led around the floor. "This song does not deserve old people dancing. For the record."

"Then dance, Mom," Dee said, one hand on the small of Laura's back. "Gods know you can."

"Don't call me Mom when I'm trying to be a sexually available woman, it ruins the mood," Laura said, faking a smile and pulling back to do the steps of the Tauroni style. With maybe a little more waist-and-shoulder shifting.

"Okay," Dee said, leaning forward and leering. "You're a good-looking girl. Wanna dance?"

She brushed Laura's face with the back of her hand and smirked. The sensation actually brought a shiver to Laura's spine and she tossed her head nervously.

"I think I do," Laura said, putting Dee's hand on her hip. "What's your name again? I like your hat."

* * *

"Did you know she could do that?" Lee asked, thinking that it would be a bad night on Galactica if the Adama men started a brawl on the bar floor, but if the president kept doing that... "Frak me."

Fortunately for him, the song was ending, a sexy little number that he could have seen his father and Roslin dancing to. The next number would be something that the president wouldn't dance to. Not if the way Dee described these little rituals was accurate.

And then the trombones went off.

And then the skinny guy seized Roslin's waist and pulled her into the thick of the crowd, hands sliding over her hips suggestively.

And then his father's fists clenched again.

"I think we found out what she and the girls do in their spare time," Lee said.

"I think you're right," his father said, eyes laser-tight on Roslin.

Then again, that was about eighty percent of the room, especially when the president's steps didn't falter and she did a fast, fast spin, and her leg went UP and ended up on the guy's shoulder, was palmed and ended up on the ground again.

Someone howled their approval.

"Dad. Dad. No killing," Lee hissed. "She's having fun. It's not serious."

Of course, the guy was now on his knees and moving around in a circle in as blatantly sexual a manner as Lee'd ever seen and Lee noticed Roslin was doing this in serious heels.

"Where the FRAK is Dee?" Lee's father snarled. "I want to know who that little punk is, because he's on a month's latrine duty."

"I don't know, I haven't seen her," Lee said, looking at the skinny guy again. Something about him...tugged at the back of his head.

No way. No way in frakking hell.

And if it was true, this was by far the hottest thing Dee had done in their marriage and Lee was going to hell for imagining his wife and probable future stepmother like THAT, but damn it.

If they didn't want him to think it, Dee's hands needed to be somewhere than Roslin's hips and Roslin's leg needed to stop hooking around Dee's.

Just in Lee's opinion, of course.

* * *

"Oh my gods, I frakking well LOVED that," Laura gasped as the number finished. She'd almost forgotten the entire fleet was watching her dance with a skinny little man thirty years her junior and do it well, because gods. She'd needed that.

"You're good at it," Dee said, walking her fingers over Laura's shoulder in one last devious gesture. "So what are you waiting for, woman? You've got three songs before Irene does our next number."

"One last touch," Laura said, kissing Dee on the cheek. "Thanks, kid."

"You're welcome, Mom. Now go make Dad happy," Dee said, brushing Laura and wandering away.

Laura sighed and walked back to her table, where Tory was glowering.

"You could have warned me you were going to do that with a man half your age," Tory said irritably. "There are going to be pictures all over the fleet of that kiss."

"Not if I do this right, Tory, and it's not my fault the Galactica girls have better moves than Colonial One's," Laura said airily, taking her drink. "This is water, right?"

"Yes, Madame President, it is," Tory said. "Now if you'll excuse me, I do this for FUN."

"So do I," Laura said, giving her a smile.

Tory paused. "Are you serious?" she asked. "This isn't just trying to make Admiral Adama jealous?"

"No, I genuinely love it," Laura admitted. "I haven't done anything for me in ages. This was fantastic. Sorry to get in the way of your good time."

"Well...Colonial One still has better music than Galactica, and Seelix has no rhythm," Tory said with a toss of her head. "I'm just saying."

With that, she fled, and Laura leaned her head back, warm with triumph.

"Madame. President. Roslin," Bill Adama's voice said, cutting through the triumph.

"Admiral Adama," she said, opening her eyes and looking at him. "You don't look like you're having a very good time, Bill."

"What the hell was that?" Bill hissed, glaring. "Who WAS that frakking kid? Do you have any idea what that looked like?"

"Fun?" Laura suggested with another smile. "Sit down, Bill. You look like a gargoyle when you hover and glare."

He sat down. "You look amazing."

"I feel amazing," Laura said with an elated smile. "And I can dance."

"I saw that," Bill said. "Point proven, by the way."

"Point?" Laura asked, tilting her head.

"That was a performance for my benefit, wasn't it?" Bill asked.

"No, it wasn't," Laura said, realizing it was true as she said it. "Here's the thing. I want you. You know I want you, but we're not doing this anymore."

"Doing what?" Bill asked.

"I like to dance," Laura said. "And after I get tired of dancing, you're going to take me back to your quarters and I'm going to push you up against a wall and show you just what I want you to do to me. Or we're going to stop doing this whole back-and-forth unresolved tension thing. Even though it was fun to watch you give that boy the death glare."

Bill was quiet and Laura watched Margie brush up against a tall guy from another ship. Hopefully he was less of an ass than her usual type; Laura would have to screen him later.

"Did you just give me an ultimatum?" Bill asked.

"You know what's between us. You know what could be," Laura said fiercely. "And we have no idea if tomorrow's going to come so that it can be appropriate."

More quiet. "If I find that boy, I'm putting him on latrine duty for a month," Bill said. "The way he was touching you? He's lucky I didn't break his arm."

"That's not very nice," Laura said, smiling demurely. "You can touch me any time you want, Admiral Adama. And you damn well know it."

As if testing that theory, he put his hand on her wrist, and then walked his fingers up her arm to stroke. Laura didn't move.

"I can't dance like that," he said.

"That's fine," Laura said.

"I'm going to ask you to dance when I know a damn song," Bill said.

"I was hoping you would."

"We're going back to my quarters after that and I'm going to make love to you for hours," Bill said, looking sidewise at Laura. "Until you're too tired to show off your dance skills for your people."

"Excellent plan," Laura said. And with that, Irene struck up the number she was hoping Irene would strike up.

Bill's hand pulled at hers. "Know this one?" she asked.

"I do," he said as she stood up and he put his arm around her waist.

"Good," she said, throwing her arms around his neck. "Tell me, what do I have to do to get next to you, Bill Adama?"

"You could start with that thing you did with your hips," he said. "And the, um, wiggle."

"This wiggle?" Laura asked, eyes locked on his.

"Definitely that wiggle," he said, dipping her back a bit.

Ooh, this was going to be fun, too. Laura approved of that.

* * *

Lee had found Dee, breathless and giggling behind the music booth, still in her boy's outfit but without the hat. When she caught sight of him, she waved and he walked over.

"You two set this up," Lee said. "Dad wants to put you on latrine duty."

"He does now," Dee said, tipping back her rotgut. "Tomorrow, I think he'll give me a promotion. If he ever finds out that I set him up, which I think he never will."

"You're asking me to deceive my commanding officer and my father?" asked Lee, putting a finger under one of Dee's suspenders with a raised eyebrow.

"I'm asking that you don't demystify the happiest night the old man's had since the attacks," Dee said, tilting her head back to smile at Lee. "I'm a cute boy, aren't I?"

"I almost gave it all away when I realized it was you," Lee admitted, leaning in and nuzzling Dee's throat. "You two are _sizzling_ together."

"Really?" Dee asked, pausing to off one of her suspenders. "You were scoping out your stepmom?"

"Not my stepmom yet," Lee said, hands on the small of Dee's back. "Mostly, I think you look really good in that hat. But come on, you weren't having a good time vamping the president?"

"I was having a great time," Dee said, brushing closer to Lee. "Now I'm having a better time."

Lee kissed her with very little of the usual Adama public restraint. "Let's get out of this dive," he said, kissing her again. "I want to show you just how sizzling I thought that act was. And to escape before my father sees you."

Dee grinned, peeked from behind the curtain, and hooted. "Oh, I don't think he'll be seeing US leave, Lee," she said, waving him over.

Lee stared. "You have unleashed a monster," he said. "Did she really just...wow. Dad is going to bodily drag her out of here, isn't he?"

Dee's hand groped over Lee's chest and then slid downward. "Probably," she said. "But why don't we let Gaeta tell us tomorrow? The hat and I want to escape."

Lee threw his arm around his wife. "Then let's ditch this gin joint, sweetheart, before the crowd gets too rowdy," he said, kissing her as they left.

"The hat and I approve," Dee said, throwing one last glance back over her shoulder. "Oh, wow, Gaeta is so getting latrine duty..."


End file.
